


All I Am

by phantisma



Series: Keeper Verse [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-18
Updated: 2007-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-13 10:31:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/502560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Early Keeper!verse, where Dean is willing to give anything to Sam to keep him there.  So, um...Sam comes home after a "business" trip.  Dana's not quite two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Am

“SamSam.” Dana flew Dean’s jacket at him and he stopped trying to catch her and caught the jacket again.

“Sam will be home in a few days, honey.”

She stomped her little foot, upsetting her precarious balance and landing on her butt. “SamSam.”

Dean closed his eyes and sat in the chair, putting the jacket in his lap. Sam had been gone a few days on “business” and wasn’t due back for another few days. The apartment seemed empty and huge without him.

Truth was, Dean wasn’t even sure he was coming back.

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. Every night it got worse. She fought going to bed, to sleep, calling for Sam. Tonight it had been an hour of catching her, getting his jacket thrown at him, putting her down, only to find she’d found a way out of the crib and come back for more.

He felt her hand on his knee and looked down. “Dada?”

Dean picked her up, cradling her to his shoulder. “How about we lay right here and wait for SamSam?”

She chewed on her fist and nodded.

“Okay.” Dean kissed her cheek and moved to the couch, laying down and settling her on his chest. She closed her eyes. It didn’t take long and she was asleep.

Dean sighed and closed his eyes, tired out by the struggle to get his daughter to bed. When he opened them again Dana was gone. He sat up in a panic, his eyes darting around the room.

“I put her to bed.”

Sam’s voice wrapped around him, soothed him. Dean turned to find him leaning on the wall near the hallway, watching him. He looked…dangerous. Dean stood, emotion flushing through him that would never show on his face, relief Sam had come back, desire, love.

“How long you been standing there?”

“Long enough to think of a hundred better uses for that couch…” Sam’s eyes dragged up Dean’s torso, “…and that body.”

Dean arched an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

Sam still hadn’t moved, and Dean was aware he was still slowly moving toward Sam, as though Sam were some giant magnet that he couldn't escape the pull of. An arm’s length away, Dean reached for Sam, who still didn’t move, tucked two fingers in the front pocket of his jeans. He tugged a little, but Sam was rock solid and it only forced Dean to take the last two steps so that their bodies were touching.

“I missed you.” Dean said, looking up into Sam’s eyes.

Sam’s hands finally moved, his arms uncrossing so those hands could cover Dean’s shoulder blades, caressing lightly, then slipping down, fingers pressing harder into his skin and pulling Dean closer.

Sam was hard, needy. “I want you.”

“Right here.” Dean breathed into Sam’s chest.

Sam growled in his ear, pushing their groins together. “Want to taste you.”

Dean hissed as Sam’s fingers found the scars on his chest where Sam had first tasted him, cut him open and licked his blood. The memory surged through him, the heat, the abandon, their bodies joined, Sam’s hand on the knife, his lips on the wound.

There was a clicking sound and Sam had a knife in one hand, playing it through the small light bleeding in from the kitchen. Dean licked his lips, his eyes skipping up to Sam’s. “Will you let me?” Sam breathed.

The blade touched him, warm from Sam’s pocket, skimming over his collarbone, tracing over the faint scars. “Are you mine, Dean?”

Dean pulled on those fingers in Sam’s pocket and turned his head, tilting it so that his neck was exposed to Sam, offering his body, his life into Sam’s hands.

“Yours, Sam.” Dean’s voice shook with need, with want.

Sam’s left hand fisted in Dean’s hair, pulling his head back as his tongue slid up his exposed neck. “Mine.” Sam growled in his ear as the knife blade bit into skin. The cut was tiny, barely enough to bleed, but Dean’s cock jumped in his jeans, pressed against the denim and zipper and when Sam’s mouth closed over the wound, his tongue laving over it again and again, Dean came.

His knees wobbled as he finished and he sagged, sliding to his knees. Sam’s hand never left his head, only redirected him toward Sam’s own tented jeans. Dean slipped his fingers finally from Sam’s pocket and opened his zipper, his mouth searching out his cock and sucking it deep. Sam pressed himself in deep, hard…fast.

“Mine.” Sam growled again.

Dean couldn’t argue, all that he was could disappear inside this…being with Sam like this. Sam’s hips moved and Dean moved with him, swallowing around him. He opened his throat and Sam came, panting and grunting and collapsing back against the wall.

When his hand loosened, Dean stood, his hands running over Sam’s chest, his lips seeking out Sam’s. “Welcome home.” Dean said with a grin.

The dangerous look was gone from Sam’s eyes as he chuckled and pulled himself up straight. His eyes sparkled and he looked young and playful. “I should have called.”

Dean shook his head. “This is your home, Sam.”

Sam smiled and ducked his head.

“Come to bed?” Dean held out his hand and waited. Sam had his own room, and sometimes when he came back from these trips he needed privacy.

“You going to change out of those wet pants?”

Dean looked down at his come stained groin. “Gonna take them off and play with myself. Wanna watch?”

Sam put his hand in Dean’s. “Not exactly.”


End file.
